


how an angel dies

by hopkins



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopkins/pseuds/hopkins
Summary: In which a normal man becomes enemies with the most powerful supervillain to have ever walked the Earth.





	how an angel dies

**Author's Note:**

> semi inspired by PaisleyWraith's fic "A bit of Chaos," which is my current favourite chaos/mosquito fanfiction.

The coolest thing about being a superhero was definitely the abilities you would have. Speed, strength, being able to shoot lasers from your eyes or ice from your fingertips… God, did Clyde wish he could do all that. But he couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. He’d never be that cool, and he’d never get the chance to save all of humanity. The only “superpower” he had was the ability to cook and bake things. His specialty was the lemon bars he’s been making since he was five.

Clyde was a brawler back when he was a kid. He fought with his fists and sometimes the mosquitoes he had “trained.” But in reality, they were just a bunch of starved bugs who attacked the enemies because Clyde had made certain they were bleeding before summoning the parasites. He couldn’t really defend himself so well, though. Brawlers didn’t have powers, they fought only with their fists and sometimes smaller weapons, like knives or daggers.

But see, the elementals and speedstars and anything other than a brawler had it so much better, and Clyde wishes he could be like them. Wonder Tweek, the boyfriend of his best friend Super Craig, could freeze villains with a single look. Fastpass, another friend of his, had super speed and could run to Japan and back in a matter of minutes. Captain D. could gain muscles in mere seconds after consuming certain foods. Super Craig was practically born with muscles, but it’s not like he used them much. He preferred using the lightning bolts he shot from his eyes.

Clyde was so ridiculously jealous that all of his friends had gained the made up superpowers from when they were kids. But at the same time, he didn’t really want the powers he made up. They were dumb, and he was scared of heights. Still, he sometimes wondered what being a superhero was like. He’d be praised, and not treated like absolute garbage.

Like right now. Currently, he was occupied by being yelled at by a customer for simply doing his job. He didn’t know what he did wrong- in fact, everything was going perfectly fine until the guy’s date went to use the bathroom.

“You know, you could’ve brought out the food earlier, but no. It doesn’t take an entire forty-five minutes to prepare whatever this garbage is,” the man went on, starting to gather attention from the other patrons.

“Sir, please calm down-”

“You know what I hate about shitty busboys like you? I hate how you think you’re so high up there, always acting like you run the place-”

“Sir, please just listen to me-”

“No, no, you listen to me you shithead! Don’t even think about looking at my girlfriend like that. You think I didn’t see you sneaking glances at her?”

Some people in the world just need to shut up. Like, forever. Why are people this shitty? Oh, right. Maybe to get some kind of discount for having “shit service” and supposedly being sexually harassed. Or something.

The owner of the restaurant had to be called out by one of Clyde’s co-workers, knowing fully well that any moment he’d end up a blubbering mess and embarrassing himself in front of so many people. Clyde was brought to the backroom, his boss profusely apologizing and giving the man his discount. But that wasn’t fair, because he hadn’t even done anything wrong in the first place. “The customer is always right!” Bull-fucking-shit.

The door to the kitchen slammed open as the boss made a beeline straight for Clyde. She only directed him towards the door, most likely not wanting to take her anger out on him. He hung the mini apron that was around his waist on the rack and grabbed his coat, tugging it on as his vision started to blur.

“Goddammit,” he mumbled, trying to stop the tears from falling. But it was hopeless, because he only got to the alleyway down the street to head back to his apartment before falling against the wall. He muffled his pitiful sobs the best he could, then pushed himself back up to keep trudging home. It was just so, so dumb how he couldn’t even defend himself for something he never did. He wasn’t even interested in women, or even men for that matter. Maybe when he was younger, sure, but now that he’s older and has a job and a place of his own it just didn’t really seem all that necessary. He was happy by himself, with his friends. Alright, maybe that was a lie. He was lonely as shit, but he’d never admit that out loud. He’d hate for his friends to suddenly find it peculiar that he’s even interested in dating.

Besides, it’s not like anyone would really want him. He’s not the most handsome guy out there, and he definitely doesn’t have the most attractive personality. Who would want to be in a relationship with a guy who’s almost constantly crying? He had skin that was practically just a wet paper towel. It was easily torn.

He was jealous of the relationship Craig and Tweek had. They’d been together since the fifth grade, despite having so many bumps in their rocky relationship. They rarely get along, but that’s what brings them together, Clyde supposes. Toolshed and Human Kite were also a dynamic duo, back when they still went by those names. Now they’re just Kyle and Stan Marsh-Broflovski. They’ve been best friends since they were in diapers, probably even longer than that. Craig said that they were probably lovers in all of their past lives. He always says weird spiritual stuff like that, which confuses Clyde a good deal since Craig was never very religious or spiritual.

But he’d worry about that later.

Clyde unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped in, dropping his coat and keys on the chair sitting right beside the entrance after locking everything back up. He was immediately greeted by his cat, who started rubbing against his right leg as he took off his shoes.

“Hello to you too, Milo,” he greeted, reaching down to pet the tomcat’s head. He picked him up, not caring if any of his white fur shed onto his shirt, and carried him into the kitchen.

After his dog Rex passed away, Clyde had been heartbroken enough to find another pet to keep him company. He wasn’t going to be living with his father anymore, given that he had recently bought the apartment he currently lived in, and needed the company. He was too lonely to be able to sit in a silent apartment all day long. But the only animals allowed in the apartment complex were cats, certain types of fish, small rodents, and birds. Clyde didn’t like birds, and he didn’t want fish or any kind of rodent since they had a short lifespan, so he settled for a cat. Two months later and he’d gotten very attached to Milo, who’s just as cuddly as Clyde.

He set him down on the floor in order to open the cabinet underneath the sink, retrieving the cat food. Milo rubbed up against his legs and Clyde avoided stepping on his paws, picking up his dish and pouring a fair amount into it. He set it back down, watching as Milo slipped away from his legs and went straight for his food dish.

Clyde watched for a moment before he turned around and walked towards the fridge, pulling out the already half-empty tub of vanilla ice-cream and making his way towards the living room. He picked up the T.V. remote and turned on Netflix, plopping himself down on the cushions of the couch.

The spoon from last night was still in there, and after picking it up he dropped it from the cold. Staring down at the tub, he decided that he would probably have to let the spoon warm up a little before he could properly grip it. Or get a new spoon. But he didn’t want to put in the extra effort of dragging himself off of the couch. He closed the lid on the tub and set the spoon on top of it, placing it under the lamp beside the couch.

He picked up the controller again and looked through the various movies, shows, and originals that was provided and finally settled on some chick flick that would most likely cause him to cry by the end of it. Craig still never forgot about the time he and Clyde watched it and Clyde ended up full-blown sobbing at the end of the film. The bastard would tease him about it every once in a while.

Speaking of Craig, a notification on his phone popped up. Clyde glanced over at the armrest, finding the message to be more important than whatever pity party he was throwing himself.

 

6:19pm ****  
  
**Tucker:** hey.  
meet me at tweak bros.  
scott saw what happened earlier and i don’t want you being stupid and doubling your weight again.

 

Clyde can’t help but roll his eyes a little. Craig’s always been like that since Roger died, and he didn’t really ask for his best friend to try and act like some kind of caregiver to him. Nonetheless, he messaged Craig back, and paused The Office. He’d seen the episode too many times, anyhow.

 

_6:21pm_  
  
**Donoman:** Okay, fine  
I’ll be there soon

**Tucker:** good.

 

Craig’s texts are blunt and to the point, which Clyde likes about them. The only thing that really bothers him is the lack of any emotion and capitalization. Craig has never used an emoji in his life, and sometimes Clyde can’t tell if he’s joking or not. One time, Craig gave Stripe a carrot and texted Clyde about it. He said Stripe was dying over it, and Clyde automatically assumed that the guinea pig was just really excited about it. As it turns out, Stripe #17 was _literally_ dying over the carrot. Craig said a piece got lodged in his throat and he couldn’t get it out.

Tossing his phone down on the pillow beside him, Clyde got to his feet and picked up the tub of ice-cream and the slowly warming spoon. He shuffled out to the kitchen, putting the tub back and tossing the spoon in the sink. He’d get to it later. Probably.

On his way past the bathroom, he whipped off his shirt and tossed it into the ever-growing pile of clothes that sat in the hamper and started to remove his nicer slacks, almost tripping himself as he hopped to try and get his foot out of the leghole. He tossed them into the hamper with ease before quickly making his way to his room.

He didn’t really clean in there, and all of his clean clothes were lying in a heap atop of his dresser. He looked through them, picking out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of khakis, slipping them on. He grabbed his red hoodie, too, because there was no way he’d leave without some kind of overcoat.

He slipped it on as soon as he stepped out of his apartment, and locked the door behind him.

The trek to the local coffee shop was uneventful, the only thing really worth mentioning was the stray cat who decided to rub itself on Clyde’s leg, then scented Milo and darted away. Cats are weird, he decided.

Tweak Bros. was warm and welcoming as he stepped through the door, the bell jingling with glee until it closed behind him. He spotted Craig immediately, lips contorted into a smirk as he spoke to Tweek, whose face was bright red. Tweek was never really into PDA, and Clyde could understand that.

“Hey guys,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite of Craig. Tweek jumped a little, almost dropping the clipboard he was holding that had everyone’s orders scribbled onto it.

He looked ready to pull on his hair- a nervous habit that he adopted when he was younger- but remembered that it was tied back into a ponytail and slightly concealed by a visor and dropped his hand back down to his side.

“Hi, Clyde, Tweek said, nervously looking around, “Uh, can I get you anything?” His voice had gotten a little deeper, but still had that almost-voice-cracking tone to it. The sound wasn’t nearly as bad as nails on a chalkboard, but sometimes when he’d get upset it was difficult not to be a little bothered by it. Tweek easily agreed, and said he was cursed with such a horrible voice.

“Just a hot chocolate is fine, dude,” Clyde responded, and watched as Tweek scrabbled down the words, then shuffled away, but not before giving Craig one last smile. Clyde never really liked coffee. It tasted too bitter for him.

He seated himself and looked up at Craig, who was drinking a mocha.

“So… Scott told you?” Clyde said, his voice perking up at the end as if he were asking a question.

“Yep. He told me everything. You can’t keep letting people walk all over you like that, dude,” Craig replied, setting his styrofoam cup down on the table. “Are you okay?”

Clyde wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”

“Scott told me that customer really fucked you up, man. I’m worried about you- you shouldn’t be working those kinds of jobs.”

Clyde paled a little. Craig was usually right in what he said. “Yeah, I know, but I can’t just go around saving-” Craig shushed him before he could finish, and Clyde remembered that they weren’t in private. He couldn’t talk about that, not here.

“I don’t have another way to make cash,” he finally decided on, and Craig didn’t silence him this time.

“I’d say talk to Token about finding work, but I don’t think he’d be very willing to hire you. Last time you got caught up in what we did, you almost died,” Craig said. Clyde remembered that time. They were still teenagers, still learning what their powers did. Everyone had discovered theirs, except for Clyde. The Vamp kids had summoned some kind of demon- Clyde was never certain what it was- and he tried to defeat it himself. All it took was one hit, and he was down for the count. Stan had rushed him to the hospital, and from there, the E.R.

Clyde glared at Craig. “Well, I could just-” Craig hushed him again. “Dude, how come you can talk about it, but I can’t?” Clyde whined, disgruntled by the current conversation.

“Because I don’t even want you _thinking_ about it,” Craig said, taking another sip from his mocha. “It’s dangerous business, Clyde, and we don’t want you to have any part in it.” _Ouch_.

“That’s so lame!” The brunet shouted, causing Tweek to jump a little as he set down Clyde’s hot chocolate. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized, his face growing red as the other patrons eyed him.

“Craig’s right,” Tweek said, “If you get into this, we might, um. Well, you’ll be in major trouble. Did you hear Chaos is back in town?”

“ _Nuh uh_ ,” Clyde said, just holding the mug in his hands, “I thought he was gone for good?”

Craig shushed him once more, and Clyde began to realize that the guy was just trying to fuck with him. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, he’s back,” Tweek said, blue eyes narrowed as he nervously glanced through the windows without actually turning his head. “He’s gonna kill Mysterion, or whoever he thinks is responsible for sending him to that, uh.” He paused a moment, scrunching up his face before physical panic was displayed across his face. “Oh _God_ , I forgot to put Stripe back in her cage!” The blond said before rushing back into storage. Craig’s face looked paler than usual.

“I’m sure she’s okay, Craig,” Clyde said, then finally took a drink from the warm mug of hot chocolate. The marshmallows were already melted.

There was a shriek from the back room and Craig immediately got to his feet, rushing towards the storage as fast as humanly possible. It was silent for a few moments as Clyde watched, heart thudding against his ribcage. They were fine, right?

He gulped down the rest of his drink before standing up, deciding that the two had been gone long enough. He made his way towards the door that Craig and Tweek disappeared behind, and opened it.

Craig and Tweek were standing there, covered head to toe in flour. Tweek had the sack over his head while Craig stood on his tiptoes to be able to reach it, pulling it off and flinging it to the side. Tweek was hyperventilating and Clyde noticed a white furball heading in his direction. He kneeled down and scooped it into his hands, feeling the familiar nibbling of Stripe #18’s teeth against his calloused hands.

“Are you guys… okay?” He asked hesitantly, and Tweek’s wild eyes settled on him in an instant.

“Am I okay?!” He practically shrieked. “I could’ve _died!_ ”

Clyde stepped back as Tweek walked towards him, fists clenched and glowing a light blue. Craig stood in front of the taller blond, holding his hands up in a kind of surrender-like fashion.

“Hey, babe, come on, Clyde was just worried about you. Please calm down, honey,” he said, attempting to coax Tweek out of whatever murder plan he had in mind.

It seemed to work, though, as the glow slowly faded and Tweek backed up, profusely apologizing to Clyde and begging him to not hate him. No matter how many reassurances Clyde had said, though, he just would not listen. Clyde handed Stripe over, and Tweek calmed down immensely.

“I really am sorry, Clyde. I- I didn’t mean for that to go so far,” he murmured, petting Stripe’s flour-covered fur.

“No, Tweek, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to,” Clyde responded, smiling at the blond.

“You could’ve been _killed_ ,” Tweek said, just loud enough that Clyde could hear him.

“I should- I gotta get going,” the brunet said, suddenly feeling unwelcome. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Tweek said his goodbyes, and Craig only watched after him.

 

The air was still cool as Clyde left the warmth of Tweak Bros. Those words were said so often that he wasn’t sure how to feel about them anymore. He knows that the others only wanted to protect him, but he could handle himself. He took karate classes throughout his high school years, and he built up muscle from his years of playing baseball. He didn’t need so much protection or to be constantly hovered around. Clyde was a grown man now, and he didn’t need constant supervision.

Clyde turned down the alleyway he used earlier when going to the coffee shop, but he paused, eyes going wide as he saw another man there, knife pressed to a woman’s throat as she shuffled through her purse, most likely trying to find her wallet. He noticed Clyde, though, and dropped the knife out of shock. It clattered to the ground, but one of his hands were still grasping tightly onto the woman’s arm, not allowing her to escape.

Clyde felt frozen, but called out anyway, “Let her go.”

The man sneered. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?” Clyde gulped at that, he didn’t really plan this far ahead. He hadn’t even planned on any of this- he didn’t think he would freeze up like this.

Suddenly, the woman, seeing as the guy was distracted, lifted her foot and kicked as hard as she could at his nether regions. He fell to the ground, clutching his pants as the woman kicked again, sending him onto the ground for good.

Clyde didn’t realize who she was at first, but getting a better look at her now- “Wendy!” He said, rushing towards her. She was brushing herself off.

“Hey, Clyde,” she responded, “Thanks for distracting him- Chaos has been going after everyone since his return.” Clyde’s face paled as he looked back down at the man. He was wearing the Chaos Inc. symbol on his arm. He didn’t think any of them would try to attack this early.

“Tweek mentioned something like that…” he mumbled, and Wendy tugged at his arm.

“We should get you home. It’s not good for you to be around us right now,” she said, starting to pull him back to his apartment. But Clyde firmly planted himself into the ground.

“Stop saying that,” he said, “I’m not fragile, I can handle myself perfectly fine.”

“You don’t know what he’s even capable of-” Wendy tried to say, but Clyde ripped his arm away from the noirette.

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you guys constantly watching over me like hawks! It’s so- aggravating!” Clyde didn’t mean to shout, but the amount of sentences like that he’s heard over the years bothered him a great deal. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying all of this now- it’s never truly bothered him until… Clyde snapped himself out of his own thoughts, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. It was wet with tears, and he’d be turning into a blubbering mess if he kept this up.

“I don’t care if I don’t have powers or whatever, I’ve accepted that. I’m okay with that, but- but you guys keep smothering me in all of this!” He continued, his pout obvious as he looked away from Wendy, using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s so dumb! Why can’t I just hang out with you guys like I used to?”

Saying that, he felt that _maybe_ he was a little jealous that he never got any kind of superpowers. He felt selfish, and even worse than he had before he left Tweak Bros.

“Just… just leave me alone for a while. I don’t need you guys consistently helping me with normal, everyday activities that even people without powers can do,” he mumbled, feeling how raw his cheeks were. They were starting to sting from the cold.

Wendy didn’t leave, though.

“We’re just trying to look after you,” she said softly, cautiously taking a step forward. “We really want to hang out like the old days, really, but… things changed, Clyde. We don’t want to see you get hurt. We don’t want someone to take advantage of you.”

Her words didn’t help, though.

“I won’t be taken advantage of, though! That’s what you guys don’t see- just because I’m friends with you, doesn’t automatically put me in the center of danger!” He shouted back, then pushed past Wendy. “Stop trying to tell me that I can’t live my life without you guys!”

The tears were trying to flow again as Clyde retreated away from Wendy’s voice. He needed to get away- he needed to go anywhere but here. He needed to calm himself down.

Soon enough, Wendy’s voice as she called for him was nothing but a memory and he found himself in a more unfamiliar part of South Park. Clyde hadn’t been here since he and the others roleplayed as superheroes. Craig once got trapped behind a river of lava (they were red Lego bricks that Butters used to play out his evil schemes) and Clyde remembered how he beat up Dougie for doing that to poor Craig. The guy could’ve died over on the other side, after all.

But now everything was so much more real, because the kids actually had powers (except for Clyde, of course. Clyde never got to be part of the team because he didn’t have anything that could be of use to the FP).

He had stopped crying a while ago, and was now looking up at the large storage sheds. As a kid, they always looked so massive. But now that he was taller, they weren’t really as big as he remembers them being. He walked through the seemingly endless maze of garages, and finally stumbled upon one that he knew all too well. And it still belonged to the blond that marked the beginning of Freedom Pals.

Professor Chaos stood there, staring down at Clyde as if the guy had just walked in on him taking a bath. He seemed more thin than before, but Chaos definitely had muscles. If he really wanted to, he could easily pick Clyde up and snap his spine over his knee. But maybe he did want to do that.

Clyde took a step backwards, the hair on his neck sticking up a little. He’d never been this close to the guy in his entire life, and the only times he had seen him were when he was on the news. The internet also served useful for looking him up, but there was little to no information on his background.

Chaos’ smile was too wide to even be considered a genuine smile, and his icy blue eyes were void of any kind of life. All in all, the guy seemed… unstable.

“Well, hey there,” he spoke, his voice sounding so soft yet so rough at the same time. It was unnerving, the way he spoke to Clyde. It was like he was being spoken to like a baby.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he added, “What’re ya doin’ out here, buddy?”

Clyde’s throat felt tight as he spoke, “Um. Just- just walking…” He didn’t dare make eye contact, and his eyes wandered into the garage behind Chaos.

But Chaos noticed his eyes wander, and glanced back. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What’cha lookin’ at?” And then Clyde’s eyes were right back on the ground, near his feet.

“Nothin’,” muttered Clyde.

“You’re lookin’ pretty interested in my machines. Don’t lie to me, uh. What’s your name?”

Clyde knew he shouldn’t answer that. He knew he should never tell a criminal his name. His father taught him that, after his mother died, but he couldn’t help in being so polite and out slipped the word, “Clyde.”

“That’s a nice name, Clyde,” he said, name rolling off of his tongue so easily. The brunet winced a little, and Chaos was easy to catch the sudden, jerky movement. “Are you okay, Clyde?” The blond asked, tilting his head a little. The silver helmet gleamed in the sun and his light golden hair jutted out from under it. His cape was blowing a little with help from the wind. He looked kind of ridiculous, actually.

“Yeah,” Clyde responded, the lie coming so easy to him. He didn’t say it often, or even lie about his feelings, but Chaos could do anything he wanted with him. Clyde didn’t want him to be angry.

Chaos seemed to buy the lie. “Someone told me you’ve been hangin’ out with those Freedom bunch,” he said, “Said you saved Callgirl earlier.”

Clyde paled, and his mouth felt dry.

“Is that true, Clyde?”

He only nodded. Chaos weakly chuckled.

“Well now, Clyde, I don’t like my plans bein’ messed with very much,” he said, that smile still present on his face. He looked scarier like that, Clyde decided.

“You ain’t a superhero, though. I’ve seen you around, working at that restaurant downtown,” Chaos continued, but Clyde stomped his foot like a child.

“I am too a superhero!” He huffed, and Chaos only smirked.

“Aw, Clyde, you’re funny, y’know that?” He crouched down a little to look the brunet in the eyes. He was almost the same height as Tweek, just a few inches taller. Tweek was 6’3” so this guy must have been at least 6’5”. Maybe 6’7”.

Clyde felt Chaos ruffle his hair, which in turn became static-y. Clyde puffed out his cheeks, swatting at the other’s hands.

“I’m serious! I-I-- uh, I could defeat you!” Now that caught Chaos’ attention. His eyes bore into Clyde’s own caramel ones, unblinking. This guy really freaked Clyde out.

“You really think that?” Chaos asked, looking fairly intrigued by Clyde’s declaration. “Not even Mysterion is able to beat me.”

“I don’t care, I could still beat you,” Clyde mumbled, clenching one of his hands into a fist.

“That’s real cute, Clyde, but-” Before the Professor could finish his sentence, Clyde had swung his fist up to meet the blond’s face, successfully hitting the intended target and causing a single tooth to slip from the other’s mouth. Chaos looked stunned as blood began to flow out from between his lips.

Clyde didn’t even think he had it in him, and he saw the murderous look Chaos had. His smile was completely wiped from his face, and his fists began to shake as electricity began to surge out from them. Chaos was an elemental, and Clyde messed with the wrong kind of superhuman.

Someone ran up and pulled Clyde back from Chaos as he got back up to his feet. Tweek and Craig were standing beside him, dressed in their suits. “WW” and “S” were labeled on both of their outfits, which were both blue and practically identical. Callgirl stood behind Clyde, holding him back.

“Leave him alone, Chaos,” someone else said, and Clyde recognized the voice as none other than Mysterion himself.

“Heya, fellas,” Chaos called, “I wasn’t gonna do anythin’ to him! I promise!”

“That’s bullshit,” Super Craig mumbled, and Chaos looked at him strangely.

“We were gettin’ along just fine, honest!” But the blood still spilled from Chaos’ mouth, dripping down onto the pavement.

“Come on, Clyde, we’re getting you home,” Callgirl whispered, beginning to drag the brunet away, back towards the apartment complex.

As they rounded the corner, Clyde took one last look over his shoulder, only to find the Professor’s face red from rage.

“I’ll hold you to your challenge, Clyde! And I won’t hold back!” Chaos called, and Callgirl had to push Clyde away in order to avoid him emptying his stomach onto her brand new sneakers.

**Author's Note:**

> i love comments, but i don't usually get any. feel free to leave some?
> 
> trrain-wreck.tumblr.com


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